


Boundaries of Righteousness

by 月氣 (TheUmbraphage)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dark Fantasy, F/F, F/M, Gen, Historical Fantasy, I promise the next book is gayer I swear, M/M, Multi, Okay this is turning gayer than planned and I’m living for it, Political conflict, Pre Relationship, Royalty Drama, Sexual Tension, Wuxia, Xianxia, unbeta’d we die like MEN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUmbraphage/pseuds/%E6%9C%88%E6%B0%A3
Summary: The passing of Emperor Meisheng marks a new era as the common tale of brothers fighting for the throne repeats, but a new entity once trusted by the Lan family would shake the Mei dynasty to its core.orA beginning of a heroic tale in which a dead crown prince seeks to restore his glory and honor, and reclaim the throne.(UNEDITED)
Relationships: Chén Yǒngxuě & Lán Hónglián, Chén Yǒngyì/Zhāng Xīntiān | Lín Huā, onesided Chén Yǒngyì/Zhāng Xīnyá | Lín Hé
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m barely literate in Chinese even though I was raised speaking it, so please forgive this shameful Chinese-American for attempting to do original xianxia justice in English!
> 
> I’ve had this concept sitting in my drafts for years because I was too nervous about writing a story for a new genre when I can’t wax poetic in my first language, but I figured to hell with it and start somewhere and attempt translating it later.
> 
> (I also have no idea how to name this novel so it will likely change). This will be a series separated into 3 books and probably some short stories, though I’m still debating its title. Eventually this will likely be posted to my WordPress, WattPad, and Tumblr if I don’t find a good site to host xianxia webnovels on.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy reading this and kudoses/bookmarks/comments are appreciated!

The pinks and violets of the early dawn washed over the Jiexin palace in the heart of Guangshan City, warming the cold air in a promise of a new day. Soon, the livelihood of the people would return from a night’s rest as merchants, travellers, and tourists would pass through the gates facing the sea and the mountains only a few li away on either side.

For Jiexin and its residents, however, there was no rest for the heavy heart.

A cry echoed from the emperor’s chambers, a eunuch hurrying out from the doors with a grave announcement, “The emperor has died!”

And the news spread through the palace faster than fire. Concubines wept at the first sign of news, and the palace workers bowed their heads in grief.

Lan Jinyun only stood in silence a few feet away from his father’s deathbed within the grand chambers. The place was decorated in lively gold drapes and colorful ceramics his father enjoyed collecting, but he only numbly noted their presence. When death hung in the air, he was hard-pressed to be invigorated by the bright colors.

His mother, the queen consort, choked on her sobs as she clutched at the emperor’s white linen robes. “My emperor!...My emperor!” was all she cried, unable to articulate any more in her mourning.

Would he be able to show such heart wrenching grief?

Only a dull ache echoed within his heart, a bitter regret that seeped through and into his veins and left the taste of a dried desert upon his tongue. The emperor had fallen ill to an assassin’s poison mere weeks ago, but what such long weeks they were! Lan Jinyun had every chance to mend the frayed cord of his relations with his father, worn from the years, yet he chose not to. Not even as the emperor called for him to attend to his symptoms, not even when the emperor whispered for him to speak under ragged breaths in the last moments of his life.

Lan Jinyun did not know if he could forgive himself, as the reality of never seeing his father again settled on his shoulders like a mountain.

A hand lightly touched his arm in a comforting warmth, eyes a startling shade of jade green peering up at him from beneath a frame of thick, dark lashes. It was his wife, Aqila, whom his father had arranged for him to marry earlier that year in a political pact between their empire, Mei, and the kingdom across the sea, Sibu. A kind woman she was, with a sharp intellect buried under her quiet stature reminiscent of a panther, her chestnut complexion stunning in contrast to the paper and ink that was prevalent among the high status citizens of the Mei Empire.

Her voice was elegant, her accent crisp and breathy, “I’ll take care of the queen, you should spend some time alone.”

He could only nod in reply and watch as Aqila moved to his mother’s side with a quiet swish of her violet robes. She spoke softly to the weeping queen, words inaudible to his ears, and finally the queen quieted. Aqila took her elbow and helped her up. The two left the chambers.

It was silent. Lan Jinyun was speechless. His brothers would surely come within the day, but what was he to do in the meantime?

The past weeks flashed through the forefront of his mind. A pit of guilt settled in his gut.

The crown prince took the few steps forward and knelt by his father’s side. In the 25 years he had known his father, the emperor had aged considerably over the years. What a tragedy it still was, that despite the lines that have already creased his face, death had taken him so young compared to the kings before him.

He could only bow his head in respect and think to himself,  _ What a terrible thoughts that must troubled my father’s heart! If only time could be reversed, and I could have eased his worries by giving up my pride for what is truly worth my life… _

Thunder cracked. Rain fell like rocks upon the roof, adding weight to the boulder that rested upon his shoulders.

The door opened, and footsteps quietly sounded on the floorboards behind him, yet not so silent as one foot landed more heavily than the other. There was only one person he knew of that would come at this time, and with that familiar limp. Without turning, Lan Jinyun greeted, “Chen-guan.”1

Chen Zhongming had been a constant presence for most of Lan Jinyun’s life as his father’s advisor, best friend, and _shidi_ in the martial arts. The man, almost 20 years his senior, still retained a youthful face of a man at most 7 years his senior—ah, truly cultivation had done its trick. The Chen family had a long line of cultivators since the beginning of the Mei dynasty 684 years ago, and existed as a noble family whose name was as well known as the Lan family. Lan Jinyun’s family, too, consisted of a long line of cultivation practitioners, however due to their nature as the long-standing ruling family, often the emperors of ages past had their life snuffed early by enemies.

It was then that in the past handful of generations, the ruling kings did not pursue the cultivation path and instead focused their talents in solely the scholarly path. It was known historically that many of Mei’s sects and cultivation families had disapproved of the radical change, however the disgruntled attitude had died down over the years.

Lan Jinyun suspected that it was in part due to his choice to become a disciple of the Yuying sect at the age of 8 until his 20th birthday that the discontent had been completely calmed in the past few years.

Lan Jinyun heard his uncle shuffle behind him, a warm hand settling on his shoulder in comfort. Chen Zhongming was a man colder than his father, rarely humored by anything. Lan Jinyun wondered if Chen Zhongming felt any awkwardness at this attempt at comfort, not that Lan Jinyun needed it.

Chen Zhongming spoke, “Your father was a good man. He will be missed by all.”

His uncle wasn’t one to be consumed by emotions either, be it pain or true joy. Though, Lan Jinyun still had to wonder aloud, “You and my father have known each other since your early youth—my father’s death must have been an even bigger shock to you than it is to the denizens.”

There was a pause filled with only the sound of rain. The hand tightened at Lan Jinyun’s shoulder for a short moment before his uncle released him. There was a shuffle of robes as Chen Zhongming pulled two nearby chairs and set them near the emperor’s bed.

“Here, your highness. It’s unbecoming of the crown prince to kneel like this, especially when you are to take your father’s duties upon your shoulders soon.”

Chen Zhongming not only restrained every passing emotion in his countenance, but he even dodged sharing his inner turmoils in words. Lan Jinyun glanced at the elder, eyes cold, and paid no mind to the chair offered to him.

He inquired, “What will you do now?”

He knew it was a silly question. Chen Zhongming knew it was a silly question. Yet, Lan Jinyun still had to know.

Chen Zhongming let out a sigh and sat in one of the chairs. A snap of his paper fan, a night scenery painted on it in delicate yet murky strokes with a poem too small for Lan Jinyun to decipher from this distance, and he solemnly fanned himself. He finally replied, “Prince Lan, as a loyal servant to the Lan family for almost 30 years now, there is little choice in what I can do except to see that Lan Luoxing passes on to the afterlife comfortably and see your coronation be completed.”

Lan Jinyun looked away with a faint frown. Of course, it was duties that came first before anything. Ah, what a true waste it was that despite his scholarly efforts that he still had yet to experience what it is like to lead: he was the one of the youngest of his brothers, yet somehow the emperor had seen him worthy enough to become the crown prince.

The fan snapped close. Lan Jinyun jumped at the unexpected sound and turned, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Chen Zhongming had knelt down from his seat and kowtowed to Lan Jinyun, his forehead touching the ground.

“Eh—Chen-guan, why…?” Lan Jinyun sputtered, but he was unable to speak anymore. His uncle, despite being the emperor’s advisor and the first rank scholar-official, was rarely seen in such a position, even during the palace court meetings. Such a collected man, he carried himself as though he was royalty himself. 

“Crown prince, ultimately my life is in your hands. All I ask is that I can continue serving as an advisor to the Lan family and serve you as I did your father.”

Lan Jinyun was speechless once again. He shook himself from his stupor and replied in a wavering voice, “Of course. I had no intention of removing you. At this point, I need your help more than ever as the emperor. Please, rise.”

Chen Zhongming wordlessly rose from his position, a glint in his charcoal eyes. Lan Jinyun could not tell if it was from pleasure or gratitude. “Many thanks, your highness.”

Lan Jinyun nodded before he finally stood, giving his father one last glance. He spoke, “We ought to discuss plans later. I’ll leave you so you may spend some moments with my father.”

Chen Zhongming stood with him and bowed. When Lan Jinyun left the chambers, Chen Zhongming already had his back turned toward him as he sat down beside his father’s deathbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Guan is a title for imperial officials. Typically there are 9 ranks (which the Mei Dynasty follows) where the first rank acts as the emperor’s close advisor, and the ninth rank is often assigned to small villages like a mayor. Sometimes historically, there are up to 98 ranks but only during corrupt eras like the late Qing dynasty.


	2. Chapter 2

The upcoming week was just as, if not more, solemn than the day of his father’s passing.

Lan Luoxing, Emperor Meisheng, was to be lowered in his grave by the end of the funeral, however the tomb was still in progress of construction. Emperor Meixing, as young as he was, did not fill his will in the detail needed to complete all the funeral preparations in a timely manner. The rainy season had just begun, and despite flooding being infrequent in Guangshan City, it was still some distances lower than the mountain, and it was difficult for the workers to travel to the base of the mountain where Emperor Meisheng was to be buried.

From the late emperor’s will, he was a simple man at heart and dictated that his tomb would be at most 50 chi wide and long, barely the fourth of the size of the previous emperors’ tombs. Lan Luoxing did not care for many material treasures in his life beyond his collection of ceramics from various cultures he had visited.

He had specifically mentioned in his will that his collection was to stay put in the palace and not to be buried with him.

As such, Lan Jinyun could only stare, baffled, at the half page of his father’s will while all of the palace officials could only offer bland words that vaguely described what his father might have wanted.

If only his father could have at least written what he wished to be engraved on his tombstone…

Now, as Lan Jinyun sat in his father’s seat in the court and other court matters regarding the unsettled citizens had been settled, the palace officials had filed out to attend to their other duties later in the day. Silence settled across the court and Lan Jinyun, seeing no one around, slumped in his seat, six sets of 8 jade beads swaying in front of his eyes from where they hung from his _mianliu_ 1. Pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows scrunched with the flood of his nerves. In many cases he agreed with his father that brevity was the soul of wit, but not like this when he was on the verge of foaming at the mouth already!

The door creaked open, the one to his left leading into the corridor that connected to one of his offices, with the approach of a meek eunuch. As Lan Jinyun turned with a raised eyebrow, the young man bowed.

“Crown prince.”

He gestured, “Rise. What is it?”

“Chen-guan wishes to speak in your presence.”

Lan Jinyun couldn’t help but stir, surprised. Chen Zhongming had attended the meeting, had he not? He had to be curious what needed to be spoken in private, though he hoped it wouldn’t be more bad news.

Paused in consideration for a moment too long, he cleared his throat, hiding the flush that threatened to warm his face at the odd look the eunuch shot him. He replied, “Tell him that I shall meet him in my office in my personal palace within two burns of an incense.”

“Of course, crown prince.” The eunuch bowed, before backing his way through the door again.

Lan Jinyun let out a soft sigh, rubbing at his face. He wasn’t sure that he’ll be able to adjust to his duties as quickly as he would like, but he had to remind himself that the world doesn’t wait for him unless he were dead.

* * *

It was a grand affair, despite Lan Jinyun’s initial instincts that no, his father would have hated such attention—directed at his passing no less! However, in spite of the mournful masses within the palace and surrounding the royal family in the capital city, there was a glaring emptiness that stabbed through his heart like a thorn ever since the morning.

Just less than a week ago, he heard foreboding words spoken to him in his personal office, words he wouldn’t dare to ignore when it’s from the man who has served his father for so many years.

“Be wary of your brothers, my emperor.”

He hasn’t even had his official coronation yet, as normally the ceremony would occur the eight day after the emperor’s death, and already he could feel the weight of the emperor’s duties weighing down on his shoulders as if he was the pallbearer himself!

A shiver still travelled down his spine at being called “Emperor,” and it had been spoken by Chen Zhongming’s lips; while it wasn’t so taboo to warrant a punishment by the palace standards—not that Lan Jinyun would ever dare to punish his elder, jade stamp or not—it was unlucky from a traditional, filial standpoint. Then again, like his father, he couldn’t recall a memory where Chen Zhongming was considered traditional, often hearing his brothers turn their noses up at the mention of the official.

In spite of the discontented worry that flipped in his stomach, he worried more about the blunt warning. And so, the dread in his gut was only confirmed with the absence of the second prince when the sun rose.

“ _What_ do you mean the second prince will not be attending?” Lan Jinyun nearly spat from where he stood, dressed in his freshened, linen rice white hanfu, devoid of any jewelry or color, his hair left plain and uncovered where it was pinned in a half-up topknot.

The eunuch that carried the news shuddered from where he bowed, breaking out in cold sweat. “Forgive me, crown prince, th-this servant had only received the message early this morning that the second prince is preoccupied with a rising revolt in his city and cannot come to Jiexin for the funeral.”

The hot anger that nearly lashed out and shattered the porcelain tea kettle atop the table in the sitting room faded as quickly as it came, concern and mild suspicion taking its place. His eyebrow furrowed as he crossed his hands behind his back, troubled as he began pacing. “A revolt?”

“Y-yes, crown prince.”

“Send a message to him that I will be sending men to assist before the night falls.”

“Of course, crown prince.”

“At once.” Lan Jinyun raised his hand, movement sharp enough to hear the _fa_ of his wide sleeve, in a dismissing motion. The eunuch was quick to make his leave, short of running away in fear of unintentionally angering him further.

Lan Jinyun didn’t even notice the effect the gloomy shadow over his face had on his servant, but he, too, was preoccupied like his brother.

Just why would his brother send such a last minute notice if it took a day’s trip to travel to Guangshan in the royal caravan?

* * *

It was a long trek to the royal burial grounds after the ceremony at the palace, where the palace officials and sect leaders had attended to pay their respects, and longer still when it was a large company including his family and servants to hike the trail toward the mountains once they first made a round around the city for the citizens to pay their respects as well. While the grounds were not located on any of the mountain peaks, where the Tiebing Taoist Sect was located in Mei’s _jianghu_ , it was halfway up the closest mountain—if it could be called a mountain. It was more like a rocky hill, unable to hold a candle to the vastness of the Northern Mountains that bordered the cold lands of Reishan, the neighboring empire.

Several years ago, almost 800 years, the mountains were divided between the Tiebing Sect and the Taiyue Chen Sect, when the territory now known as Mei had been ruled by _wulin_ rather than modern societal rules in the Seven Sects Seven Kingdoms Period—this was a story that Lan Jinyun grew up hearing from the history books, but somehow it seemed all the more relevant walking the same path many others in his family have in the past, and especially with Chen Zhongming joining the march when the Chen family had been long descended from the destroyed Taiyue Chen Sect.

At first, Lan Jinyun had been puzzled by his presence, as it was unheard of for scholar-officials to follow the funeral to the burial grounds. Presumably, it was because his father was close to Chen Zhongming that he was expected to assist with the monk’s funeral rites at the lead of the march, but the official was quick to catch Lan Jinyun’s curious gaze.

“The Chen family has had a long history being servants to the Lan family before my grandfather was permitted to study and test into the imperial court,” his elder had explained, expression carefully neutral though with an amused glint in his eye. Every day since his father passed, Lan Jinyun felt like he was stumbling like a fly without a head! How humiliating it was that he didn’t even pay attention enough to remember his basic family history!

Still, his embarrassment was only brief as once again the sight of the glaringly empty spot belonging to the second prince in the lineup of twelve brothers, all donned in simple ivory robes, weighed on his heart. Seeing his brothers standing stiffly as they were, Lan Jinyun wondered if the others had noticed the absence as well and if he was the only one with a storm cloud that followed his every step, if going by the concerned glances sent his way by his third eldest brother—third prince Lan Jinhuan.

Of all his brothers not counting the youngest ones that tended to look up to him, the only one he could say he was on amicable terms with was Lan Jinhuan, a welcome surprise given that his other brothers born to the same Empress Consort sneered at their ninth brother and the unexpected shift in which their father decided Lan Jinyun as the most unbiased, level-headed of all of them.

Oh, but what a pity that Lan Jinyun was always the one to feel sick to his stomach with anxiety first at the first signs of a storm, even though he has learned to master his icy mask from an early age.

The brothers followed the pallbearers in a single line of white, stark against the misty greys of the rising mountains, silent as the monk chanted to lead the way for the emperor’s easy passing. A flurry of talismans written with death blessings scattered their path with every step.

Then, there was a stumble, followed by sounds of panic as the heavy coffin inlaid with gold wobbled, moving sideways as one of the pallbearers let out a cry of pain and fell to his knee. The coffin steadied itself with the help of the others, as Lan Jinyun’s eldest brother, Lan Jinyang, rushed forward.

The first prince was already snarling, leveling a glare at the pallbearer. “You dare—Take him away—“

Without a thought, Lan Jinyun was already walking forward, setting a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “This servant will not be taken away to be punished. Servants, take him down the trail to treat his ankle.”

“Ninth—“

Lan Jinyun turned his head to frown at his brother, shoulders tensing as he watched Lan Jinyang’s jaw grind with rage.

Finally, he bowed in stiff apology. “Crown prince, this first prince has overstepped his bounds. But, how shall we continue when we’re missing a pallbearer?”

“This crown prince will carry our emperor’s coffin.”

Discontent spread through his brothers like a wildfire as they shuffled, unsettled.

Lan Jinyang, “The crown prince has never done this before in previous generations…”

His eyes narrowed, unhesitating as he stepped in the injured pallbearer’s place and with a strained grunt, lifted his part of the coffin onto his shoulders.

Lan Jinhuan, “Are you certain, crown prince? Because…” His brother gestured vaguely at Lan Jinyun’s body, which was notably less muscular than most of his brothers.

Lan Jinyun could already feel veins popping at his temple as his right eye twitched. He may have a weak stomach, but he wasn’t about to keel over! He had managed to master the form to be able to strengthen his meridians and cultivate a decent sized core, after all. Before he could comment, Chen Zhongming finally spoke, mysteriously silent for the duration of the accident.

“The boundaries between the spirit world and human world are weakest during night, the seventh month, and funeral proceedings, not counting graveyards. Accidents like this attract negative feng shui, and in turn, negative qi, if we don’t amend this quickly and complete the proceedings in a timely manner.” Chen Zhongming’s eyes briefly wandered over his brothers, almost challenging in spite of his neutral expression. If it weren’t for the faint purse of his lips, Lan Jinyun wouldn’t have thought this was his way of snapping and defending his choice.

Once the disquiet had stilled into begrudging acceptance—while not all of his brothers were cultivators like him, they couldn’t deny that it would not only be a curse upon them all but a disgrace on their ancestors if they brought back bad feng shui to the palace from disrespecting the dead—those steel grey eyes glanced over in Lan Jinyun’s direction, curious yet approving as Chen Zhongming nodded for him to continue. The crown prince’s previously ruffled feathers smoothed, replaced by meekness as he looked away, feeling his heart and ears warm.

And so, the march continued up the mountain until they reached the vast burial grounds, occupied by at least twenty towering tombs. At the center of the grounds stood a stone palace, standing two stories tall and smaller than most of the royal palaces, where spells had been engraved along its structure to ward against grave robbers that dared to tread the royal grounds. The walls, though left untouched with garden foliage bursting with life hanging from the roof, were clean and well-maintained as the script hardly looked worn down with the ages. There, the first emperor of Mei had been buried with his mass of favorite riches, including many artifacts that had been confiscated from the sects that opposed his rise to power.

From the epicenter, the tombs that followed were built in a spiraling formation, evenly spaced so the entirety of the burial grounds spanned the space of a village. Not all were grand as the first, and somehow Lan Jinyun could get a sense of what all his forefathers were like—some plain like his father, and others were just ostentatious to the point he was glad to be born into this generation rather than an earlier one.

At the end of the spiral on the outskirts of the burial grounds that was bound to grow in size in a few generations, Emperor Meisheng’s tomb stood: a simple slab of stone with Lan Luoxing’s favorite poem carved into it under Chen Zhongming’s direction, which was almost double the height of Lan Jinyun’s stature and a little longer than his arm span, stood in front of a simple rectangular structure 50 steps long and across that reached at most the hip. Compared to Lan Luoxing’s father, his tomb was plain, lacking any talisman engravings despite everyone’s better judgement.

It was short and quiet when Lan Jinyun helped lower his father into the tomb through the opening and slid the heavy slab of stone over it. The monk stepped forward, chanting once more as she took out a piece of talisman paper from her sleeve, yellow in color, and channeled her qi through two fingers to write an incantation onto it and pressed it to the slab. In a burst of energy, it combusted in red flames, burning the spell into the tomb as the edges of the stone sealed together, unmarred as if the rock hadn’t been separated in the first place. Where the talisman had burned away, an engraving with the same spell had been left behind.

The sun was beginning to lower on the horizon as noon long passed once everyone had paid their respects through setting alight paper taels and paper ceramics2 for the afterlife and began to head back to the Jiexin palace. As nightfall came, the dinner shared among the family and guests was simple and vegetarian, contrasting the usual feasts of variety the family was used to. After what had happened on the way to the burial grounds, it was more prudent that they did not touch meat, and that they limit their consumption to ward off any traces of negative energy that followed them.

His brothers, however, didn’t seem pleased, having been tense during the whole trip to the point Lan Jinyun wondered if they’ll snap like an overtightened bow of an erhu. So, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Lan Jinyang shattered the silence.

“It was honorable of the crown prince to have stepped in when he did on the mountain trail. This first prince admires your courage.” 

Lan Jinhuan sighed as he set down his chopsticks and rested his face against his hands where he sat in the formal dining hall, where the emperor’s seat was empty save for the Empress Consort who sat beside the empty chair and the carpeted central area was devoid of any entertainment.

Lan Jinyun sent a false smile at his oldest brother across the way from his seat closest to the emperor’s on the right. “Thank you, first prince. I was only fulfilling my filial duty as a son.”

Aqila lightly cleared her throat, placing a hand on his arm as though to placate him. However, it didn’t do anything to lessen the shadow across his face as his friendly smile strained.

Lan Jinyang may have been smiling back, but he looked like he was on the verge of exploding from sheer rage at the slap in the face from how frozen his face was and the veins that threatened to burst from behind his amber eyes. Lan Jinyun silently cursed his brother, _Serves you right! What kind of mother raised a son like this?_

(Ah, but aren’t you also insulting your mother? How unfilial!)

Chen Zhongming coughed from further away, closer to the entrance, when the Empress Consort only watched intently, as though she had been watching a poetic exchange this whole time. “I’m certain the recently passed emperor would be proud of his sons for their adherence to filial piety and tradition.”

Lan Jinyang, “...”

Lan Jinyun, “Ha ha, we owe Chen-guan many thanks for sharing his experienced thoughts on our father.”

The crown prince sipped from his tea to smother his smug expression, willfully ignorant to the look of exasperation that flickered on Chen Zhongming’s face and the strangled guffaw Lan Jinhuan had to choke down with a mouthful of rice.

Lan Jinyun’s short victory in maintaining his cool air would be short-lived, however. The light, gentle hand on his arm suddenly tightened as a gagging sound drew everyone’s attention in the room.

Aqila swallowed thickly before moving to stand. “Please excuse this _taizhi fei_ —“3

A servant was quick to escort her out into the side corridor, where despite the wall separating them from the dining hall, the muffled sounds of vomiting could be heard.

The Empress Consort, shedding all of her previous grieving demeanor, covered her mouth with a giggle. “Oh ho ho, will I be a grandmother again soon?”

His elder brothers and their _huang fei_ 4 exchanged knowing glances, while all the blood drained from Lan Jinyun’s face, leaving him as ashen as a _jiangshi_.5

This time, it was Chen Zhongming gently hoisting him up to quietly lead him out before it was his turn to throw up too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - A mianliu is a formal headdress worn by emperors, kings, and princes. The number of beads vary by rank; the emperor would wear six sets of nine beads. I wasn’t able to find much info on the bead count for other ranks, so I took a wild swing and went with eight.  
> 2 - According to Chinese traditions, family and friends must burn paper money and paper novelties so the spirit can carry them into the afterlife. Fun fact, this is actually a decently big business in modern day, expanding to include paper Ferrari’s and paper Rolex watches. (I always asked my family why there aren’t paper diamond credit cards but there’s no answer so I’m guessing that everyone would just be buying that and the business owners won’t be making enough)  
> 3 - Taizhi fei is the title for the crown prince’s official wife.  
> 4 - Huang fei is the title for any prince’s official wife. Not to be confused with the emperor’s concubine title, which is written as 皇妃 in comparison to the former’s 王妃.  
> 5 - Jiangshi is basically a Chinese zombie/vampire.
> 
> Haha, to think that I was going to be 100% serious with this, but it turns into Aqila, Lan Jinhuan, and Chen Zhongming constantly looking into the screen like the Office because a certain crown prince doesn’t know how to not be a dramatic petty queen.


End file.
